Non-Believer Former Members of the Worldwide Church of God

Dear Robert,

I recently came across your website when searching for an old friend, and just thought I would like to send a note to you for use on your very important site if you think it would be helpful.

Thank you so much for going to the trouble to put together a site like this. I think it is a tribute to the journeys which so many of us began feeling very isolated and nervous of sharing our thoughts. Perhaps now we realise we were in fact going through the same process as others, and there is a kind of comfort that can come from that. I would like to think that in some ways what the people who have written for your site have in common – along with so many others who haven’t but I know from honest conversations would completely recognise the feelings and the process – is that we share a lot more than a childhood and background steeped in a belief system we now very much reject. We have all had to struggle for honesty, thinking for ourselves and all that in the face of questioning extremely powerful authorities in our lives. We have sometimes paid heavily for that process, but I think we all really value the ability to be ourselves and to think freely and to treasure that with our children.

It feels to me like a journey into the sunshine and open space – not with so many answers and certainties, and still with loss and sadness of course. There are also still aches and lingering consequences, but we are now writing our own stories. And there is a kind of personal achievement in that which I feel should be honoured, and perhaps most of all by us who understand it.

So that’s why I’d like to write my story in case it helps anyone else.

I’m now 44 and was born into the WCG in the UK, the eldest daughter of a local deacon who in time became a local elder. For me of course, all seemed ‘normal’ because a child assumes what they experience is life as it is. I had a loving family and just felt sorry for the rest of the world who didn’t have our priveledged knowledge. I was not as aware then of the costs being paid around me when life conflicted with belief or teaching.

As the years went on though I did touch on some things which jarred briefly. I remember a minister crying when he read out the corrected teaching on divorce and remarriage, presumably guilty at what his own teachings may have led to in people’s real lives. I saw a young man be forced to choose between his family/church when he fell in love with a young woman of another race. I got to know friends at school who were coming out as gay and sensed a gulf between real people and dogma which I did not understand how it could be bridged.

As a bright schoolgirl, I was offered a scholarship at an outstanding school. It was not pursued, in part I think because of our perspective on education and women and what the future held. I was particularly good at literature and drawn to novels, but bothered by an AC student who told me at SEP that theatre was not allowed in the auditorium because it would involve thinking like a sinful person! I knew that all novels and plays involved empathising and crossing into other lives and thoughts. I felt divided, as reading had been for so long my exit into other worlds and ideas. Instead I felt I had to face up to my natural tendency to fully join in with life and have boyfriends, etc, and so at 18 got baptised and went to AC. My local church and family were proud to see me embark on this adventure.

I arrived in a new country and new culture, desperate to do things right and to soak up teaching. But what I found was far from what was expected. In front of me was an ideal of how to be a success as a woman and as a believer based on some kind of 50’s American fundamentalism which was absolutely anathema to me personally. I tried and failed to suppress my own personality and my curiosity. In the end I came to the conclusion that any god who had created me was not in the business of destroying me, and so something must be wrong. I re-found books and took never-before read novels and poetry out of the library annexe and choked my rage at women’s clubs and lectures by middle aged American men on true femininity. The absurdity of it now makes me laugh in disbelief, at the outrageous foolishness and cultural bizarreness of it all.

As time passed though, I found more and more cracks I could not fill. I came across dear friends who I realised were gay and trying to hide it, at all costs, or fruitlessly to overcome it. I realised that sexual ‘frailty’ was prevalent at every level from the faculty to the students, and the impossible aims were oppressive to them as much as me. Because of my job and friends, I gained unusual insights into the lives of ‘evangelists’ and even the church’s leaders – the Armstrongs and Tkach’s senior and junior (Mr Armstrong died while I was a student and a poem I wrote about his death was published in the student newspaper – based on what I later learned was the myth of the end of his life rather than its truer, more moving story.) So I learned from those who lived and worked with our leadership at the very closest and most personal quarters of frustrated and repressed homosexuality, affairs, illegitimate children, abuse ignored by ministers, mental illness denied – even in the partners of church leaders, pornography hidden, and on and on. I began to see them as people, perhaps as much or even more victims in hindsight than we were, wrapped up in a mythology which was addictive and almost impossible to live healthily within.

Still I held on though to the innocence and integrity of my parents idealism, and the loyal faith of the people in my local church area. I hid from them what I’d seen, and tried to bridge this frail humanity with my own efforts.

I came back to the UK at the end of four years and, not at all by design, ended up working in the church offices. As a woman I regularly wrote letters and sermons for senior ministers and also articles, allowing this to be done by them or with a male name as clearly it could not be done by me. I also saw utter tragedies amongst those we knew – including the accidental death of the children of a dear friend – which made it less and less credible for me to hold onto the view of an intervening, healing god I’d been taught so idealistically as a child. The gap was harder and harder to ignore. I strained at the effort.

As the church began to assess itself, and split into ‘new’ and ‘old’ thinking, I had a new life. My lovely friend and husband was already ill at ease with the church and its certainties. And I was restudying literature at university and questioning how we know what we know and the stories we tell. At last in a simple act of letting go, I realised I no longer accepted the first principles I had been taught. I was not sure god existed. I did not accept the Bible as a ‘manual’ for life to be read simply and applied directly. And I did not see ‘the church’ as the sole guardian of revealed knowledge. In one week, I knew I had to resign my job and walk away. With as little fuss as possible, I did.

Of course, it is not as easy as that. Our families retained allegiance to one or other version of the church as ministers and defenders of those faiths, and found it hard to see us make our own way. Such different perspectives would make connections almost impossible, without the love which also allows us to understand and forgive to an extent. I do not look at them or my past as all wrong. I see it as misled, and a warning at how far ideals and a lack of ability to appeal against power can make vulnerable even the very best of people. I buried my beloved father with this thought still in my mind.

Since then, I have given birth to two wonderful sons. My gift to them is their freedom and my openness to who they are. They are treasured without any certainty of their future or requirement on them to be anything other than who they are. This is also love.

To all who are still angry, I think that is because you care about justice and you are right. Any of the churches which followed, including the reformed WCG, still seem to me in denial about the real issues but then I care less and less what they think other than the harm they may still do. I would hope that in time you can let go of some of the pain as you rewrite your own story. But then I know that I have suffered less than many.

I hope this story helps, and maybe it is time that it is ‘out there’ and on the record. We who have written on this site are not a ‘family’ any more. We are not special. But maybe we have learned something special, and it is up to us to treasure that freedom and to share it in our own turn.

Ruth

My parents were members of the WCG since my earliest memories. My family and I, including two older brothers and younger sister, attended church services for most if my life until the early ‘90s when the church’s doctrines were changed.

I am lucky in that, as a teenager in the church, I was far more interested in hanging out with my friends than listening to the sermons. My face was invariably buried on a novel during the painfully long 2 hour Saturday services. So my days in the church came and went without ever making a deep impression on my worldview. I can, however, recall in my “tween” years a great deal of fighting between my oldest brother (then in his late teens) and parents regarding his social behavior, taste in dark music and other behaviors that didn’t fit well into the WCG. I now recognize that his rather extreme behaviors were a classic example of the rebellion of someone who has been “protected” from any dissonant points of view. When he finally got a taste of something different, he ran to the polar opposite of the spectrum, much to my parent’s horror!! These “battles of will” were long and painful to everyone in the family. In the end there was an agreement to disagree, but my brother was rather shunned from family events for the next few years including wonderful trips to places like Arizona to attend the Feast of Tabernacles.

To my parents everlasting credit, they never attempted to force the church doctrines on me or my other remaining siblings. By this time it was the early 90’s and the church was imploding. I credit my parent’s more moderate tone with allowing me to find my own way in the world without the weight of a dogmatic belief system dragging me down. Yet until recently, I had always struggled those deep “meaning of life” questions about the existence of god, a “higher power”, and the conflicts between science and religion. My parent’s departure from WCG left me with absolutely no context in which to begin integrating acceptable answers to these questions into my view of the world around me. The context did eventually come to me and the seeds were planted by a most unexpected source!!

A few years ago I was given a copy of Ayn Rand’s “Atlas Shrugged” by (of ALL the people in the world!) my FATHER!! He absolutely insisted that I read this book and proclaimed it one of the best books he’d ever read! Given his long past with the WCG, that’s saying something!! I read it and loved it. I then read almost all the Ayn Rand material I could find. Once I had digested it all, I realized two important new lessons. 1. I am an Atheist/Skeptic (and always have been) 2. If I’m going to make sense of the world around me, “Reason” must be the guide.

I do not consider myself an Objectivist today, despite Rand’s best efforts to tell me that her way is the only rational way to live. I think I am “blessed” with a natural skepticism that sorta throws up a Red Flag in my unconsciousness any time I hear anyone make an absolute statement that cannot be easily substantiated. But I do credit my dad, Rand and her heir, Dr. Leonard Peikoff for getting me started down the path of using Reason and Logic as the basis to begin formulating my views on religion, mysticism, pseudo-science and all my moral values.

I learned an important lesson from those painful battles between my brother and parents. A lesson that became very important when we recently decided to send my son to Catholic school as the only alternative to the horrible public schools in my town. My son will learn things that I think are, at best-flawed, and at worst-lies. I can’t stop that and I justify it by knowing that the quality of the other education he is getting is worth this risk. I have found (with the influence of author Dale Macgowan’s “Parenting Beyond Belief”) that the best way to combat the indoctrination of my child into a dogmatic belief system is to let him learn it! But then make sure he a proper context for these beliefs by allowing him to learn about other religions of different points of view, as well as non-belief, polytheism, cults, etc. They’re all different except they all think they’re right.

The lesson I learned is the value of free thinking and open mindedness. If I can provide for my son the understanding that no religion, cult, or charismatic leader holds the monopoly on “The Truth” then I don’t have to be concerned about him flying to the polar opposite of my worldview the way my brother did to my parents. With a strict application of reason and a healthy dose of critical thinking, my son will always have the tools to arrive at the best point of view for himself. This point of view may not always be the same as mine but I will most likely not be the opposite.

Wow. I had no idea there were so many former Worldwide Church of God members out there and especially had no idea how many had become atheist like myself. Finding your blog has somehow made me feel relieved because for so long I felt like I was the only one dealing with these personal and religious issues related to “the church.” I guess I had it lucky because after reading some of these posts I had no idea how strict and violent others were in enforcing the rules of the church. Reading all these other stories has made me want to write my own, perhaps just to help get some of these issues off my chest.

My parents both attended and met at Ambassador in Pasadena. I know my mom’s parents started going to the church in the 60’s when she was a child, but don’t know much before that. My dad started going to the church after he got back from Vietnam but I don’t really know how he found it. They don’t really like to talk about it either, although they have apologized to me for bringing me up in the church.

I grew up in the church in the Atlanta area, but towards the end of its run as the united WCG (before it split up.) I was born in 1983 if that gives you a point of reference. I have very vivid memories of the church because, as probably everyone knows that’s reading this, the church was your life. All my friends were in the church, I grew up thinking I was going to have to marry a girl in the church, and for the most part was excluded from participating in activities with kids outside the church.

We never celebrated birthdays. I remember being so jealous of other kids at school. They always brought in cupcakes to share with the other kids and I never understood why I wasn’t allowed to celebrate my own. The first birthday I remember celebrating is when I was 10 and I remember my mom made me a cake and my parents got me a card but that was all. By that point, the early 90’s, the church was really starting to fall apart and so I guess my parents felt less obligated to enforce the rules.

I was never vaccinated for anything as a child as I guess this was standard practice in the church, and I remember it was always a big ordeal to get me into public schools. I was sick all the time as a child, but somehow I think this worked out in my favor as now that I’m an adult I never get sick. I remember when I did get sick we didn’t go the doctor but would call our local deacon and he would come out and anoint me with some kind of oil on a cloth and say a prayer.

It was always difficult making friends and having to try to explain how I didn’t celebrate Christmas or Halloween or any of the other holidays that most kids did. And how I went to this thing called the Feast and met with other church members for a week every year. I have many memories of sitting in the corner with the Jehovah’s witness boy, that always seemed to be in my class, coloring some generic picture while everyone else made ornaments or went on Easter egg hunts. Not to mention not being able to watch TV or listen to music from Friday at sundown till Sunday, so having friends over outside the church was pretty much inconceivable.

I also remember the 3 tithes. But not really understanding why I had to give up so much of the little money I had as a child to the church. One time I remember my father and mother getting in a big fight because the company he worked for was requiring all the employees to come in and work on a Saturday and of course he said he couldn’t go into work because he had to go to church. He ended up losing his job because of that. He would rather go to church and lose his job than face the wrath of God I guess, that’s something I still don’t understand.

My last memory of the church, because it’s the last time we went to the church, was from about the mid 90’s when things were going down hill fast and grace was a point of contention. Which I now understand was basically the adding of the teaching of the new testament. There was a big outburst during the service and someone got a bullhorn and was passing it around so members of the congregation could voice their opinion on the matter. It was pure madness and we didn’t go back after that. My grandparents still attend the church as do a few other family friends.

There’s so many other stories I have about the church, but I feel like these are the most vivid in my mind. In some ways it’s so nice to hear others’ stories because I’ve felt so alone and lost for so long, because of the church. I’m 26 now, and lead a pretty normal life but I find I have trouble relating to most people because once you get past small talk if anyone asks about my childhood I have to drudge up these stories that seem to make most people sorry they asked. Thanks for making this blog, it’s nice to know I’m not alone. I would love to talk with anyone my same general age that has had a similar experience to my own or possibly reconnect with friends I had in the church but haven’t talked to in years. You can email me at barnes9000@gmail.com.

Ben Barnes

Hello,

I grew up from an infant in the WCG. I remember moving from Texas at about 3 and going to church at The Cotillion Ballroom in Wichita, KS. I was put out of my mother’s home at age 14 when I began to question why church officials such as Charles Reitmeier were allowed to beat me and my sisters. My older two sisters have passed away very young and most of their adult life was spent hating and hurting over things done to us as children. Both of them spent many years on drugs and self medication to bury what was done to us. I have spent many years wondering if we were just singled out because we were weak or whether it was because we were poor.

I had a sister who died a long, horribly painful death in 1965— as you know doctors were evil and possessed by Satan. I was the youngest of the four and remember beatings for such minor infractions as speaking to someone when I was not asked a question. I remember coming home from a “feast” and there being fleas in the house due to a construction project near our home. Mother beat me and beat me because I was scratching and refused to believe it was fleas— she even said, “I will beat the devil out of you; there can be nothing else making you scratch like that.”

We spent many years living with my grandmother who also paid the price for WCG and Herbert Armstrong’s fanaticism. Mother physically abused her and took her social security checks, most times she gave the bulk of the money to the church and we went without food or clothing other than some rags she picked up from other members of the church who felt sorry for us. The remainder was spent on new clothing for herself or gifts for her “boyfriends” who she also put before her daughters. Anything we did get from anyone that was not a rag was given to the most prominent person she could find that would take it.

There was an older man who went to church with us that was like a grandfather to me. I called him Grandpa Smith. He is the only truly warm and loving memory of the church that I have.

I am happily married now, have been for 23 years to a man who has listened to my horror stories and held me while I cried. We have 3 sons and they are all aware of the evil that was done and have been taught that church and God are not always what the are portrayed to be. We do not practice an organized religion although we do have a belief in a spiritual being. He refuses to accept my mother’s excuses for what she allowed done to us and we both agree she is not welcome in our home. She has left WCG from what I am told, but has never accepted responsibility for what she allowed them to do to us. Her only explanation for 48 years is “I didn’t know any better.” Brainwashed? No, just inherently evil. To this day she will not tell me who my biological father is and still holds to the belief that she is not accountable.

Have any of the abusers ever faced charges or been brought into the light for the world to see who they really are? I have a list of names but the above person (Reitmeier) is the one who stands out greatest in my mind. The damage he did to my oldest sister’s body in the name of God is unforgivable. The mental damage done to all of us is unforgivable.

I remember a few that were good to us or tried to be. The Haines family from Wellington and the Woodbridges were good kind people. The Boren family from Wichita and Mrs. Garcia. The rest are all a blur, just people I was terrified of. Did the rest of the people know? Did they care? Would they have intervened if they did know? How do I forgive and forget? How do I even just forgive?

Gwen Talmadge

This is my story, you can post it, delete it, whatever you want to do, I felt compelled to write it.

I was born in 1966 and somewhere around that time my mother, who already had some issues, became what I would regard as a hardcore christian with the church. She actually trashed a Christmas tree and some gifts in her spin to follow what Herb Armstrong said.

I grew up practically living in a vice. No friends outside the church, they were all evil in some way, no rock music, Satan inspired that and most movies and TV shows. NEVER miss a sabbath, and you will tithe if you starve to death doing it. I have always been a bit of a goth and because I had slightly different tastes, she felt that, as she put it, Satan had taken over my mind.

I went to summer camp three times, twice in Minnesota and once in Texas. I will say those were great times except that I was broke, and due to her Carrie’s mom mentality she had warped my thinking and made it hard to pursue friendship.

We were poor because she loathed work and lived on welfare, her kids, and on church financial assistance for years, which made pastors feel they had the right to own us, and dictate our lives to us.

I was shunned because I was the poor kid, and the other church kids avoided me with a few exceptions. I became very withdrawn. As a result I went through depression, wrote suicide notes and very nearly succeeded. I also married wrong which has had dire repercussions.

On the other hand, there was a time when the ministers took all of the music I owned and condemned it all as anti-Christian (we are talking fifties and sixties rock music, none of the stuff we have nowadays) and told me to destroy it and take up classical music because that was the only kind God allowed. I guess he must have sent them an e mail and I missed it.

That was the first spark of free thinking for me. I spent a day or so analyzing the music and what it meant to me and decided they were all wrong. Of course we were banned from birthdays and all other holidays also.

When the WCG announced that they were selling Amy Grant’s country music Christmas album and changing other beliefs, I quit completely and that was the best thing I ever did. I learned so many things in the following years. I let my hair grow and actually got compliments on it when I realized a man’s hair length does not make him a heathen. I evaluated music based on what I liked about it rather than how it aided Satan in destroying me. I also asked what was wrong with honoring birthdays, and stopped trying to ban my family from everything.

I had embraced gothism from early years, and it had been condemned as absolutely Satanic by people like my mother. She disowned me and turned the rest of the family against me, all the while staying tight with the old church ways.

I soon found that the gothic community was filled with Christians also, and that the idea with them was to live and let live. No condemning of people over music, sexuality or whatever. A few years ago we turned Halloween into a family event of just dressing up and having fun and it was one of our best family oriented experiences.

It took years to pry away from the old beliefs and the damage that was done, but most of it is done now. Do I believe in God? I’d love to see a second coming and see the Utopian society come to pass, ending the evil in the world. But I’m not the one to swear to anything. I don’t know where I will go when I die. I believe most of religion is based on people who attend church for their own reasons, and much of what they preach is not even biblical. Most of them attend to appease God and wind a place in heaven.

I dress in gothic clothing now partly because I like it and it is me, but also because it sets me apart. The shallow minded still condemn me as evil, but people with depth get to know me and ask why I do things.

I like rock music, I also like movies ranging from kid movies to horror, to action to comedy. No Satan hasn’t corrupted my mind. He might get a good laugh out of my mom though.

~Gene

Dear Robert,

Thank you for your blog and I am pleased to enclose a few words regarding my personal story:

My mum joined the WCG when I was 4 years old in the early ’70s following her marriage breakdown with my father. She was a bright scientist (a nuclear physicist), but she had become disillusioned with life in general, when she was “called.” Ironically, it was Dad, a fierce atheist who introduced her to the WCG with the “Plain Truth.” She started attending the Paris congregation in France where she made many friends. She obviously started to reject the scientific community altogether and she became a fierce creationist.

You have to understand that being a churchgoer is not an easy thing in France. Is not as acceptable as say, attending Church in “the Bible Belt” in the US. France is a highly secular country— in fact it is now illegal to display religious symbols in schools and state buildings such as city halls. As the result of her religious convictions (mainly in connection with Christmas and “clean food”) she became alienated from her family and friends.

Going to school was a nightmare for me, as we had lessons on Saturdays which I was missing as a result of the Church teachings. I was a very bright kid, and I wanted to join medical school to become a GP, unfortunately because of a combination of the Church teachings and missing school on Saturdays, I did not pursue a medical career, and I’ve become an environmental scientist instead.

There were things that I really liked at WCG like going to SEP and something that I really hated, which was being sexually abused (fairly mildly though) by another Church member, who had befriended my mother. She was single, as she had separated from my father at that point, so she became an ideal target for this predatory man. My mum never really paid attention when I raised the issue with her. The local Pastor probably knew that the man was a paedophile since he was never allowed to serve as a staff member at the French SEP for children aged 7 to 11 years old. He was nevertheless allowed to stay in the Congregation. Perhaps the Minister was hoping that the man might “repent fully.” He eventually was kicked out of the Church for “not understanding the scriptures fully.”

I faithfully attended Church until 19 years old when I asked the local pastor to be baptized, but he replied that I was not “ready yet.” Yet, I never went back to his office for baptism counseling.

I then went to University and “became wild” by Church standards. Binge-drinking and enjoying promiscuous activities were some of the nice recreational activities I began to take pleasure in, partly to rebel against the WCG.

The mid-nineties saw an implosion of the WCG and, and whilst I was relieved that the Church was taking a more liberal view of the World, I started to reject it completely and became very angry with the way the top leadership (Mr Tkach, et al) could turn things around the way they did. For christsake, we were not allowed to celebrate Christmas, and suddenly it was “OK” to commemorate the birth of Christ! We could even eat pork, and other related products with the “New Covenant!” Women, who had been treated as second-class citizens, were suddenly allowed to have a “Women Ministry!” I am still deeply angry about this, as the WCG robbed me of my childhood by not allowing me to celebrate Christmas, eat what other kids ate and repeatedly telling me that I should “obey” my future husband! I cannot recall a single birthday celebration in my house when I was a child.

Despite all this I am a very happy married woman with two wonderful young children. I now live in Ireland, a very religious country, which is ironically currently badly hit by the scandal relating to priests abuse in the Catholic Church. As Gore Vidal nicely puts it, I am a “Born-again atheist.” I am not against religion per se, as I can see its function in the community. I nevertheless hate anything which has a Church connotation: the politics of priesthood and hierarchy, the rituals, the hymns, etc. The sexual abuse, however how mild it was, has had a deep impact on me. I cannot trust anyone, especially other kids’ dads. I worry when my kids go to other kids’ house for sleepovers (is this a term you’re familiar with in the US?). [Yes!]

Thanks again for reading my story and feel free to publish it on your site.

Kind regards.

G. Morrison

I JUST found this one web site, The Painful Truth and links to many, many more. I was 2 when my parents joined in San Antonio, Texas. I am still STUNNED that there are so many people out there such as myself, that STILL suffer the effects of the Gestapo tactics used in WCG. I am now 51 and happily married with two beautiful daughters, but it was painfully relieving to know that I was not “the only one.” How many times I read that phrase reading all of the letters from former WCG children… “I’m not the only one.”

My father was a zealot when it came to beating me, the oldest of 3 boys with an older sister, but she was spared as she had her own bedroom. Anyway I don’t want to ramble, just to say these sad letters were verbatim of my life in that church. Funny thing, I only heard the term “cult” applied to the church from a business acquaintance when I mentioned it to him in 2003. Up to then, I just thought of them as a dysfunctional church. My wife was floored when I read some of the letters that were literally word for word from my stories I had told her during our marriage. Right up the Germans stomping on a little boys testicles with his jackboots and what a big German would do to a little boy… OR my personal favorite: since I wanted to be such a crappy child (age 10) and not be “obedient” (I was already a slave)… then maybe I would be sent to the boys prison in Gatesville I think it was where and I quote here, “where they take boys like you and put a garden hose up your backside and turn it on until the water fills you up and your intestines explode on the floor,” end quote.

Age 10… My father was an absolute tyrant and a sadist along with the condoned WCG alcoholism that went hand in hand with beating your children on a daily basis. Just had to say I too endured the absolute torture of a dictator of a father and a beat down mother. Beat until I was black and blue from my shoulders down to my ankles. Beat until I bled. I haven’t spoke to my father in 10 years as he is STILL affiliated with some splinter group. I speak to my mother rarely. 1960 was the year we joined and during the Vietnam war they made my father quit his well paying job with the Civil Service because they said he was helping make bullets to kill people. My father was in shipping, but the minister “laid down the law”. My father instead of thinking of providing for his family first, instead decided it would best to quit so he could continue to send in his precious tithes to Armstrong. HE QUIT because some man said he had to quit or miss out on Petra. From that time all I vividly remember is being hungry and poor. I also remember going to the minister’s house (who openly flirted with my mother) and being incredulous at the at the lavish way in which they lived compared to our 800 sq ft home. I remember being at a teen dance, WCG teen club of course when the local minister (Hispanic) told my father I could not dance with a white girl because my grandfather was Hispanic… even though my grandmother was 100% British, being born in Hull, England! But HIS son who was 100% Hispanic could date any of the white girls in the church. I remember going to watch the Superbowl on the minister’s new COLOR TV and we were coached on how to compliment him. I remember how the ministers came out tho the house if you missed your tithes to threaten you with disfellowshipment. And the only friends you had were church people! I remember in 4th grade feeling so sinful because I had enjoyed cutting out snowflakes to hang from our ceiling to decorate for Christmas. I remember waiting to explode if I looked at Christmas lights and thought they were pretty. I remember my Dad kissing the minister’s behind and being so nice to everyone EXCEPT his family. It was nothing to be a block from Church and have him backhand you from the front seat of the car. Or act like he was hugging you when he was pinching you with his nails until he broke the skin, or how he shaved your head in junior high for changing your report card grades… why? because I was SO tired of being beat and I mean BEAT, not punished but BEAT until I could hardly breathe. Being that he was a sadist didn’t help either.

I left home at 16, never to return. Thank God I had an aunt who knew what an abusive ass my father was and took me in. I was 1600 miles away and scared to death for the first two months that either he or some local church members would kidnap me and take me back. It took me a long time to think for myself as it had been done for me since the age of 2. I guess after reading some of these posts that I really didn’t know the half of it. I remember sitting at Big Sandy for the FOT and listening to a rant from the speaker and watching him break the Eagles album Hotel California over the pulpit and then I decided I had seen and heard enough. I have only spoken of this to my wife and I have had counseling, but until the last few years did I come to truely understand the damage this FALSE PROPHET and miserable excuse of a human being did along with my father being the good WCG parent and beating his son like it was salvation itself coming out of the board or his favorite a leather strap.

Thanks for reading, and to all others who were raised in the 60/70/80s in this cult of a “church”, I reach out to you and I UNDERSTAND.

Regards
J.D.

I wrote a comment to Angela about her experience and how it saddens me to have been even a small part of such hurts and pain. Unfortunately, in my nearly 25 years as a pastor’s wife in the WCG then UCG, I saw firsthand the over-controlling, spirit-nullifying abuses of power and the misappropriation of “God’s authority” to justify those abuses. I also still see firsthand how my children, and their friends, have struggled to overcome the damage done.

At least one of you recent contributors seems to have been lucky enough to realize the WCG was not for you, so you left while you were still young. Not everyone had that strength or insight. Also many had, by that time, been put-down, humiliated, and scared out of leaving. This is a good place for writing about the experiences and having the remaining feelings validated. Sure, there were good things we can all cull from those years. Many of my closest friends are fellow “survivors.” What holds us together now, all these years later, though, is our present immersion in healthy, questioning, open, accepting communities and diverse points of view. What holds others of you together with loved ones now? I would love to hear more stories of how you all are doing now—and how you got there.

There are still a few people whom I dearly love, including one of my children, who are still immersed in that church. I struggle with my feelings about that. No easy answers there. It is hard for me to have a relationship with them, and probably harder for them to have one with “liberal, worldly” me, so we remain distant. That is hurtful, but it is also a reality.

There are so many versions of the pain and aftereffects, and, as I said to Angela, we were not the only church or community that managed to be closed, judgmental, and abusive. I hear similar tales and horrors daily, in my present work as a social worker. Different names/organizations/churches/groups/families, but the same core dynamics. While this is sad, it is also encouraging. We are not alone, and there are many around us who would gladly heal with us.

I have a new close friend, a neighbor and fellow social worker, who shares stories about similar dynamics she has experienced, while never having even heard of our church, and being quite shocked by what it was like. Still, we both agree that our clients, friends, and coworkers really just suffer different degrees and presentations of the same set damaging, abusive pressures.

Keep contributing your stories here. I, for one, value every single one for the courage you have to write them, the healing that comes from just putting it out there, and the potential of reaching others who don’t know where to turn in their pain or confusion. Thanks for the hosting of this blog.

Thank you, thank you.

Found your site about a week ago and did not sleep that night but stayed up reading the posts and following links to other sites. I cried for several hours reading stories that were so similar to mine. For the past week I have been spending an inordinate amount of time on the computer reading about the church and I am astounded by the posts I’ve read. I am not alone! Growing up in the WCG was very hard and to this day still affects many facets of my life. I had no idea that there were so many that were adversely affected by the “religion” that we grew up in. If I have ever run into another former WCG attendee I do not know because I rarely talk about my childhood in the church. Until this week I did not know of the rift in the church, the lawsuits, the truth about HWA or even that GTA was dead.

My mother joined in the early 1960’s and my father never did join or even attend church with us. I remember mother trying to “subjugate” herself to her husband and still follow the church rules. It must have been a very tight rope to walk.

I was the “good” child. I learned quickly to do as I was told and to be as low key as possible to avoid attracting attention. I was inordinately shy. I was still reared according to the church’s “child rearing” rules. My uncle was very thoughtful and gave my mother a special paddle that he had made. It was a board with a carved handle for ease of use and holes drilled so it whistled on the down swing before it hit a bare butt. I am thankful that she never required us to thank her between each swing as he did his children. The paddle or belt was for home use, for traveling she had a bolo paddle (it fit in the diaper bag or purse very nicely.) My daughter brought home a goodie bag from a birthday party with a bolo paddle in it when she was young and when the elastic band broke I burned it. The physical and sometimes sexual abuse of children from infants to teenagers and women would put those adults and ministers in prison in today’s world. The abuse of their minds and spirits was even worse. The drug and alcohol use was widespread and just because no one talked about it did not mean that even the most naive among us did not know it was there. To this day my mother still will not believe that sexual abuse and teen pregnancy existed in the church or even much in the world during that era. None are so blind as those that will not see.

School was hard socially for me as it was for most of the children in church. I remember my 2nd grade teacher calling me up to the front of the class and announcing that since I did not believe in Jesus that I had to go to the library while the class had a Christmas activity. Living smack in the middle of the Bible Belt, that really endeared me to the rest of the class that I would go to school with for the next few years. Scholastically I excelled. That was expected and looking back what else was there to do? We went to church, studied the Bible, went to school and did homework. I refused to apply for AC. If I was going to college it would be an accredited one. The ladies in the church really tried to talk me into going to AC because they thought I would be a good ministers wife! I wanted a BS degree not an MRS. I was beginning to think for myself at this point and had realized that the WCG and HWA might not be the way I wanted to dedicate my life. I was brainwashed but not entirely blind. It was the people outside of the church that were nice to me and made me wonder if anyone that was not in the church was “of the devil” why were they the ones that would more often than not help me, be kind, be non-judgmental and accepting. I had no desire to become one of the zombies I saw every Saturday. We had our own version of the Valley of the Dolls and I did not want to join that group. Beginning to question church rules, doctrine and the fact that January 1972 came and went and the world was still rocking along, asking questions just got me slapped down. So much for trust but verify.

The petty cliques, no dating except in groups, tithe, no holidays, the world is coming to an end, the drinking, the gloom and doom sermons, faith healing not doctors, fashion edicts from the pulpit, hem length, necklines, tithe, what to eat, where to buy groceries, where to shop, have faith, the world is coming to an end, how to wear your hair, give till it hurts, it’s God’s money! have faith God will provide, what TV programs we could watch, the used clothing (which was a blessing for many, most were so poor they couldn’t have afforded to buy clothes) restricted music (I loved singing in the choir though), tithe, what were clean and unclean foods, ad nauseam. Is it any wonder that the WCG members did not leave? They were taught not to think for themselves but to rely on the pulpit for every aspect of their lives. You must have faith that we are telling you how to live your lives for the salvation of your souls and your place in the kingdom of God. There was a reason that Bible study and WCG literature had to be read before prospective members could attend services. If they had been dropped into a church service cold they would have run before HWA could have gotten a cent out of them. I remember several ministers and their families. If I had met someone like them today (as an adult) I doubt they would be on my friends list. The sanctimony and superiority were thinly sugar coated and even a child could see through it. Maybe it took a child to see it without the desperation of an adult wanting to preserve their place in the church.

Were there good things? Yes. SEP was fun once you learned who to stay away from. I learned to sail, canoe and ski which I probably would not have learned till I was much older. I learned how to prevent an ear infection and get leeches off. The Armstrong sons never learned that I knew ASL. I got my lifesaving certificate from the Damm’s class. Mr. and Mrs. Damm were nice. Looking back it is funny how we were lined up along the drive to cheer as GTA arrived. We looked like a bunch of groupies waiting on a rock star. FOT was fun if you didn’t have to camp. Jekyll Island in September was a mosquito fest. I don’t remember YOU or some of the other programs mentioned in other posts so either I have blocked them or they weren’t around before I left.

I stopped going to church in the mid 1970’s and after high school graduation I went into the Army. I fit right in. I had been trained to follow without question and SEP was the perfect training for military life. I was accepted. Everyone was from different religious, ethnic and cultural backgrounds and we were expected to look past the differences and remember we were all green. I was stationed in Germany for a few years and learned that the German people were not as we had been taught at church. That was a big one for me. I really enjoyed my time in Europe.

After leaving WCG I did search for a place to worship and found none. Organized religions do not work for me. I am an agnostic. I cannot step inside a church for services without physical discomfort. While in the Army a guy in my unit died and I was one of the ones that found him and we were counseled by a Chaplin. While he was explaining God’s mysterious ways, I cut loose on him. I had studied the Bible for years and had memorized much of it. Several weeks later I saw the Chaplin and he told me that he had examined his faith and he was confident in his beliefs. It did not occur to me till years later how arrogant I was in my “knowledge.” If he ever reads this by some strange coincidence, I apologize from the bottom of my heart.

In the decades since I left WCG there is much I am grateful for. I am close to my mother and enjoy her company. We have spoken about our time in WCG maybe 2 or 3 times in the last 30 years. I have learned to let many of my fears go. I rarely hear of a natural disaster and wonder if the end is near anymore. I no longer wonder if the eastern powers are ready to destroy the USA. I haven’t had the lake of fire nightmares in the last year or so. I eat pork. I miss shellfish due to a resent onset of an allergy to it. I have a husband of 29 years that l am still in love with. I have a daughter that I am proud of. Yes, I am PROUD of her. I do not believe that telling your child that you are proud of her will make you guilty of the sin of pride, it will however let them know that you care. She is a beautiful woman and a talented artist with an active constructive imagination. She never had to hurry home from school worried that her mother may have gone to the “place of safety” without her. I tell her that I love her every time we speak. I never want her to question my depth of love for her, her husband or my granddaughter.

Thank you again for this site. Putting this in writing has been very cathartic for me.

Dear Mr. McNally:

Thanks for creating and maintaining this blog. I am not an atheist, but I am trying to make the most of my gift of doubt. If anything, I am a kind of Deist, maybe…believing in a great creator, or great mind behind everything, who has pretty much left us alone.

I always feel a little twinge when I hear someone identify as an atheist. That fear and loathing that’s attached to it…something unsettled that unsettles me. I certainly respect it as an intellectually rigorous position.

I left the church, on consultation with a minister when preparing for baptism. As enthusiastic as I had been , I had never proven that to my own deepest satisfaction that Jesus was the son of God and that the Bible was the word of God. I left the church to do this, and pretty soon thereafter decided that I was not going got be able to accomplish my task. (I still wonder if I have not merited this gift because I have not renounced the world, and do not pray earnestly enough…).

It all still has a grip on me. I still think the the WCG is the best and most holistic version of Christianity that I have ever found. Not accounting for all the failings of the leadership, etc. I still think that the story of Jesus is the greatest story ever told, I just cannot make that leap of faith. As much as I might wish it to be true, I cannot make it so. Of course, aspects of the church, especially the Greek Orthodox Church that I was born into are so beautiful and mysterious, that I wish I could lose (or find) myself in them . I could totally be an incense befogged monk, painting icons, and communing with my Lord. It just didn’t happen.

The psychological let-down is a lingering bummer.

I have become kind of New Agey, without having gone overboard, I think. I have to say,I do believe in the spiritual side of life. My experiences with Reiki have given me personal experience of the power and existence of healing energies in the world. Maybe it’s just mind power or life-force, and a natural part of our genetic inheritance. I make no claims.

Peace,

John Pavlou
www.johnnyart.net